Sometimes, I need an inspiration boost to write this column, usually when my mind is in whirling dervish mode. It happens occasionally and when it does, I take a look at the National Day Calendar website, nationaldaycalendar.com. I am forever amazed by the things we find it necessary to celebrate!
In July, people observe Pecan Pie Day, Beans ‘N’ Franks Day, Mac ‘N’ Cheese Day, Nude Day, and Tape Measure Day all in the same week. Bikini Day falls within the same two-week span. I can tell you that if I eat pecan pie, beans ‘n’ franks, and mac ‘n’ cheese, the last thing I feel like doing is hanging out naked with a tape measure – and putting on a bikini would be out of the question. Who comes up with this stuff?
I guess seeing those days listed back-to-back sparked something deep inside of me – self-loathing with a few dollops of guilt, shame and remorse. Even when perusing the National Day webpage, I am unable to escape the subtle reminders of my need to drop about 30 pounds. Not long ago, it was just 20 pounds I needed to lose; before that, it was just ten pounds.
Prior to that, I did not need to lose any weight, but I was obsessed with worrying about the overall condition of my body.
I would like to say my concern about my expanding waistline is directly tied to my physical health, but it isn’t. I want to walk around naked with a tape measure, smiling ear to ear because I can wear any bikini I want. There, I have said it.
If I am going to lose weight, it will have to be for me, not because I want to present a certain image.
How is it possible to be in my late 50s and still be so vain? I thought as we got older, we outgrew the need to look cute in a bathing suit. It can’t just be me – everywhere I turn, there are ads for those weight loss shots, featuring women who appear to be in my general age group smiling ear to ear because they can now confidently walk around naked with a tape measure.
It is so easy to get sucked in by the allure of looking younger, more fit, and fabulous. The reality is my cardiologist has been on me about my weight for years. You know, I could possibly stop needing blood pressure and cholesterol meds if I lost 20 to 30 pounds. How about that? It’s not as sexy as looking good in a bikini, but it ups the odds that I will live to a ripe old age.
I remember when I was in my 20s, my mom’s sisters would warn me about the belly I had to look forward to in my 30s if I kept up my Pizza Hut and Baskin Robbins habits. I laughed like only a misguided youth can. Well, now I am older and not quite so smug, but am I any wiser?
Other than confirming what my aunts tried to warn me about 30 years ago, what have I learned? If I am going to lose weight, it will have to be for me, not because I want to present a certain image. I am no longer obsessed with my image. I should still take a cue from my doctor and prioritize some health goals; but as for my bikini and tape measure? They’re free to a good, or even just half-way-decent home.
